


Bird Cage

by unit702



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Kagema!Hinata, Light Angst, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Prostitute!Hinata, Samurai!Ushijima, ages are left vague so think of them as whatever age makes you comfortable, not historically accurate, porn with very mild plot, possessive behavior I guess?, rarepair, so mild it's probably just porn with context, though in this historical context Hinata would probably be underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6411088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unit702/pseuds/unit702
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man wasn’t cruel. He hadn’t raised a hand to Shoyou even once.<br/>And when it was quiet like this, tucked away in a brothel in the forest, secreted in this one familiar room; he was intimate. </p><p>//In which Ushijima is a travelling Samurai who visits the Kagema Hinata often, and Hinata has longer hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bird Cage

**Author's Note:**

> This is about a 9:1 ratio of porn to plot. (It's probably just context with a dash of subtext, really.)  
> Inspired by the gorgeous yukata ero illustrations by Ayumi Kasai.

 

* * *

_“I’ll get out of here, someday.”_

_“It appears you still don’t understand your situation.”_

_The adolescent boy stared into the gardens, the cold bite of the evening breeze nipping at the tip of his nose. He liked the smell of the fresh air, so he didn’t move from his place kneeling by the sliding door._

_“I_ will. _”_ _  
_ _The man was silent for a long moment. The only sound came of the shift of sheets as the young prostitute was dragged slowly from the door by a grip on his ankle. Shouyou didn’t fight against the movement, and he lay obediently as he heard the rustling of obi being untied behind him, and heavy yukata parted._

 

_“I despise that.”_

* * *

 

“His hair is so strange, though… It’s a wonder he gets so many customers…”  
“It must be because of his foreign looks. A lot of guests like that, you know.”  
“He probably attracts all the strange types… Poor thing. He’s young, too... Well, better for me anyway. I’ll happily stick to the traditional, lonely types of men. Most of them are harmless, even if they _are_ depressing...”

“--Ah, it’s a customer coming in…”

 

...

 

“ _Welcome back, sir_ .”  
“Would you like some company, our esteemed guest?”

“...Hinata, Shoyou.”

“Of course. Let us show you to his room-”  
“That won’t be necessary. He should be expecting me.”  
The two men didn’t insist; they’d come to be used to this.  
With the light bow of his head, the man continued down the hall, leaving the two seasoned prostitutes watching in his wake.

  
“...That man is as scary as ever.”   
“... _I hope that little shrimp is okay_.”  
The two shared a saddened look and, after a moment and an even breath, they turned back to the doors.  
“...That’s the nature of working like this... It’s not our job to worry.”

 

* * *

  
  
“...Welcome back,” the redhead greeted, bowing low. “Ushijima-sama.” He didn’t stand from his place kneeling on the floor. The drinks were already prepared, gentle steam twirling from the hot sake cups, and the meal was almost done, spread on a tray on the floor. The far larger man strode across the soft floors and sat himself down as he returned the greeting. “...I’m back.”  
He waited for his familiar company to crawl closer and to gently remove his outer jacket for him like always, padding off to hang it in the sliding cupboard. When he returned, it was to once more kneel across from the man. He didn’t look at him as he handed him his drink, and served him his food.  
“...The rice is a little burnt.”  
Hinata went a bit cold then, and he was struggling not to let his embarrassment slip onto his face. It was difficult for a boy born expressive, but he’d always been scolded, always been told to remain modest in his actions in front of the guests.

But this particular guest and himself were probably past the point of such formality by now.

“...You took a little longer than usual.”

 

* * *

 

They spoke civilly and quietly over the guest’s meal. Hinata didn’t join in eating or drinking and simply stayed in his place, as was routine.

“How was your business?”  
“Good.”  
“...Did you get hurt?”

Hinata knew it was out of line, and his guest had scolded him harshly before for it in the past. The two looked at one another, and though he wasn’t pleased, the man replied.

“I’ve told you before: I’m too skilled to get hurt.”

After so long knowing someone in the way the two knew one another, it wasn’t really any wonder that Hinata was relieved in some small way. Once, some time ago, those words would have angered the younger boy and he would desperately bite back his spite, thinking how egotistical the warrior sounded; as if he were _immune_ to death on the battlefield, as if he placed himself with the _gods_ .  
Now, Hinata knew better.

He really was that skilled.

“..And for you? How has business been?” Ushijima asked. It surprised the prostitute: it wasn’t something he tended to bring up often.   
“It’s been good.”  
“Any regulars?”  
“...Yes. A couple.”

At that, his guest looked up. Until now, Ushijima had been his only regular. Men tended to come to Hinata to fulfill their flight of fantasy for something ‘exotic’, and once they’d had his fiery hair and pinkish-pale skin under them once, they were satisfied.  
There was a short, taut silence.

“..I see.”  
“...

...Would you like me to make more rice?”  
“No. This will do.”

 

* * *

  
It always started the same. Ushijima would finish his meal, and drink in silence for a while. It used to be so alien, so _awkward_ to Hinata; now he was so used to it that he could almost be tricked into feeling like it was companionable.

The warrior would then beckon his whore forth, onto his lap.  
When Hinata was seated comfortably, he would lift the last cup of hot sake to the adolescent’s lips, and let him drink.  
The first time he’d done this the boy hadn’t a clue how to react. He wasn’t allowed, it wasn’t proper, to accept offerings of politeness and hospitality from his guests. When he’d kindly, shyly, insisted on refusing - he’d had his jaw grabbed, and the sake forced between his lips.   
He hadn’t understood at all.

Now, he did: the man wasn’t cruel.   
Visiting whores wasn’t something he made a casual habit of.  
It was almost ritual… To make him believe that this was, in some far removed way, two-sided.  
He _needed_ that comfort.

And at last was the command:

“Undress.”

 

Hinata obliged, furisode of golds, coppers and intricate floral embroidery slipping from his shoulders and falling softly to the floor.

 

* * *

 

“ _Uhnn_ -”

Thick fingers curled up, slow, inside. They pushed _there_ , and the boy on his knees sucked in a dizzying breath as heat sent his limbs sweetly numb. His small legs tensed and his hips instinctively pushed back, seeking _more_ ; a large hand at his hip disciplined him, stopping the whore from moving as he pleased. The press of his thumb: _“patience”.  
_ The skin at Shoyou’s knees was grazed red by the woven floors, but the feeling didn’t even register.  
He keened as those fingers, calculating and wicked, rubbed and pulled out until they almost slipped out of the spit-slick hole, ripe-pink with use, only to slowly inch in again and do the same. _Torturously_ slow. Hinata didn’t know how many fingers, couldn’t see from his position - bent over with his face buried into a silky pillow on the floor- but he knew it wasn’t enough.  
It made him mindless, blinded his sense. Ushijima always pushed him in this way: tested his body, toyed with it as thoroughly as possible. This part could last hours.

All the while the man would sit stoically, fully dressed. Even his shoes remained.

The man watched every action he made, every reaction it drew, intense and deliberate. He was silent, his expression unmoving and concentration solid, even as he played filthy keens and wretched, smutty sounds from the youth’s body.

Hinata had always wished from the very start that Ushijima would say something, anything, even if it were cruel, or empty common praise, even vile grunts of base nature: anything was better than silence. With the silence, the young redhead had to hear everything they were doing, everything being done to him, with no buffer to keep him aware of his reality. There was no thick, ugly voice to take him from the feelings and the moment- to remove himself from sex and anchor his sanity.  
All he had was this; and his mind swam in it.

Shoyou was flushed all over, heat prickling under his skin as his legs shook, weak under the weight of being propped up so long. Breath wasn’t satisfying his lungs, so he panted through heavy, sweating air, trying to catch the breath that would clear his mind. He wouldn’t find it. With a sound Hinata still cringed at, Ushijima withdrew his hand.   
The ginger heaved out a breath at the empty feeling, body giving a traitorous quake of frustration in response.

A tentative peek backward and Hinata saw the tiny, satisfied smirk that played on his client’s lip.

He stayed where he was, cheek pushed into plush silk that smelled of sweet herbs, and from his peripheral he could see un-hastened hands slip off his obi with a sleek sound, and then heavy yukata was opened, a thick silhouette of muscle and sinew, and battle-weathered skin partly revealed from underneath.  
He didn’t remove it. He never removed it.

Ushijima looked him in the eye, then. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that he’d been watched - but he didn’t mind it. With a gesture, the nod of a head that was almost humble, Hinata pushed his front up from the floor and allowed himself to be pulled backward against the man. Firm, large torso was warm to the touch, an odd kind of comfort he couldn’t explain, pressed flush against the boy’s back. His knees were then pushed open by larger, wider, harder thighs underneath, until the boy was spread straddling his client’s lap. Hands guided them open wider still and gently fished for his small shins, placing them in a more comfortable position laying sidelong beside his own.

The young prostitute could feel the hot, solid mass of the man’s erection pushed against the cleft of his cheeks, and it ran a pulse of needy yearning through him.

Before anything though, Ushijima was pulling at the ribbon tie at the bottom of the redhead’s short braid. It came loose, fell to the floor, and the fingers that did such horrid things - the fingers that wrapped around the hilt of a sword and brutally tore through flesh and innards, the same ones that squeezed throats dry of air and snapped bones -- the very same ones that teased his body raw for hours and would accept no less than a cry for release- began to carefully unwind the braid.

He ran his fingers through the hair softly, from scalp to ends, brushing it out so that it tumbled in fly-away, uneven waves and curls, the length of it dusting the tops of his small-framed shoulders. For a moment, Hinata could feel the other just looking at it, running strands of it through his fingers and rough palms. He hadn’t expected a nose to push just behind his ear, taking a long, smooth breath before it ran a trail to the base of his neck. The slither of pleasure that slid down the boy’s stomach had his breath catching.

The man wasn’t cruel. He hadn’t raised a hand to Shoyou even _once_.

And when it was quiet like this, tucked away in a brothel in the forest, secreted in this one familiar room; he was intimate.

The redhead let his breath go in a long sigh, shivering when hands ran down his sides, gently stirring the lust under his skin, and he felt the tickle of warm breath at the nape of his neck.  
Ushijima surprised him then - surprised himself - and spoke:

“...It reminds me of a forge. Your hair.”  
The sake had been strong, good quality. He hadn’t eaten much.

Hinata stopped, stunned into silence. It rang between them, until the man continued, still hidden in the bright ginger hair.  
“...My father was a blacksmith. I used to watch him forging swords… This colour…The hot metal was this colour.”

Hinata blinked. Out of polite conversation, the two didn’t speak much. To be so personal was unheard of between them. He was amazed, and only when the initial shock subsided did he let the words sink in. Out of embarrassment, he flushed to his ears. By all means, it wasn’t _specifically_ a compliment… But the young whore had heard cliched simile after simile about his hair:

 

 _It’s like fire,_  
_it’s like sweet oranges,_  
_like copper,_ _  
_ The sun...

 

This was the only time he’d felt that the comparison was honest, and flattering. Hot iron. Burning coals. Strength, weaponry, sparks… It made him flutter to think of such exciting things.

He turned his head, two sets of eyes met, and there was a flustered thank you on the back of his tongue. He lost the words when the blunt, hot head of his company’s cock pushed up against his entrance. Fingers pushed into his lips without giving him a moment to think, and pressed under his tongue, slicking the tips before they dipped down between their bodies. They prodded and smoothed over the skin, making the hole a little wetter- and with that, the tip slipped in.  

Ushijima’s hands were tensed hard, gripping the supple, squeezable skin at Hinata’s hips. He crept forward, girth forcing its way in little by little.  The warrior kept a close eye, fought himself to concentrate, reading the body taking him in for signals of discomfort and signals of approval. His brow was pinched, chest tight with this breathless, long moment.  After the initial little push the younger relaxed- and now he was trying to thrust himself down: _impatience_. Ushijima gripped harder and stopped Shoyou, squeezing his eyes shut as he resisted the overwhelming, wild urge to thrust himself deep into the impossibly welcoming, tight warmth of his little whore’s body.

When pale, soft cheeks were sat plush against Ushijima’s abdomen, he let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, pushing his nose into the crook of Hinata’s neck. The boy let out a low groan, in a moment of his own. His body was burning: sharp little pain and sticky hot pleasure overwhelming him with sensation. Very few made him want it. This man made him _want_ it, made this part the best feeling he could think of… He felt _full,_ and after needing it so long, it melted the last of his will to think.

 

It was here, and only here, that they were both real.

 

Hinata ground his hips without lifting them, spinning them in a shallow circle, testing the feeling as he moved Ushijima around inside him. He sighed a breath so heavy his voice almost leaked, and the older man circled his arms around the redhead’s small waist. It was small, but he wasn’t afraid of crushing it - the boy was harder, less delicate, than he looked.  
Arms reached back, hands smaller than a male’s ought to be finding gentle purchase in the warrior’s cropped hair. The sensation, the desperate little motion burned through Ushijima. “... _Move_ .”  
It was husky and barely there. It was completely out of line for a whore - but the demand snapped the man’s reserve and had him pushing his hips up in a tight snap, making Hinata bark out in surprise.

 

 _“Please, fuck me, master-”_  
_Hips stopped, pulled back. Hinata blinked, slipping out of character._  
_“_ Don’t. _”_  
_“...I… don’t understand, did I do something wrong…?” Pretend modesty._  
_“Don’t act. Don’t say things you don’t mean. Don’t lie to me with the sounds you were taught to make. It disgusts me.” Hinata stared slack-lipped at his new client, utterly shocked._

_“I’ll make you make those sounds without your will. Do you understand me?”  
_

When the warrior pulled back again, Hinata took it upon himself to piston his hips in a slow, long motion: up and down. Ushijima liked it this way: slow, and deep. Hinata liked it, only because he’d been taught the gratification that a little patience cultivated. Ushijima’s breath came out heavy, blowing over Shoyou’s shoulder. Large hands spanned the boy’s stomach and slid up to his chest as they started moving together, fingers toying at nipples and playing where they pleased - ignoring the strained member that stood pressed flat against a pale stomach. It would be a long while yet until Hinata would be allowed to come.

* * *

 

The room felt hazy. The air, their bodies, were sticky and humid with sweat. An hour had passed. The smell of sweet floral incense was giddying and dulled their senses with easy, relaxing feelings. It made the sting of their muscles less, made their conscious thoughts fewer. Hinata’s fingers were bunched into silk sheets, pulled off of the large futon and tangled in his legs from their movement. He was once more on hands and knees, bracing himself for every wave after wave of pleasure as he was fucked into. He fought his throat to keep the sounds back for a while, to breathe easy, but it was always the same. When Ushijima was hitting that one, deep spot with every deliberate slam of powerful hips, he didn’t stand a chance. Broken whines, shouts, ugly and unpracticed slipped past his lips. His breath came in pants, when he remembered to do so.

Ushijima’s sounds were harsh, heavy breaths that dragged against his throat. It was only when sweat started to dampen the roots of his hair, dyeing them a sheen black -when he started to lose the strict composure and control that he held so high in importance- that those breaths would drag into an expletive, and he would _moan:_ long and loud and low. He was curled over Hinata’s back, his large body domineering over the smaller beneath, his hands supporting himself either side of his paler partner’s. His mouth was close to Hinata’s ear when he broke, and the long moan had the boy quivering in hunger and delight.

Now was the good part. Now the wait, struggling through a teasingly slow pace, paid off.

Hinata braced himself for the last burst of their heavy, hot sex - only, it didn’t come. Just as he turned back to ask if everything was okay with his patron, his shoulder was gently pulled toward the man behind him. Hinata lost his balance, his arms displaced from supporting him. He expected to hit the floor, but a strong arm slid around his back and in a smooth movement, Ushijima had turned the youth to face him. Gently, Hinata was laid back on the futon.

Ushijima was looking at him, fervent eyes boring into him in a way that made the younger shrink under the intensity of his gaze. Their faces were close.

For a moment that seemed to span forever -here in their own independent little dimension of this room, where the outside world stopped and their sex was hidden behind paper walls decorated in ornate pattern- the two heaved in breath and looked at one another, chests swelling and falling.

 

The warrior was confessing something in that silence. 

Something Hinata didn’t want to hear.  
The redhead reached out, his fingers curling and fisting tight into the man’s hair. He pulled him close, and as his client grimaced he shoved himself back in, groaning at the feeling.

They’d never faced one another during sex before.

Their bodies clung and slid off of one another, close, fast, arms wound tight and nails desperately spanning tough skin. They were both strained and loud, uninhibited and wound up to the point where neither could stand it anymore. Hearts racing, chests heaving, their legs and hips screaming with the effort of movement. The heat reached a dizzying peak as Ushijima squeezed him tight, tugging the boy’s lower back to press close to his own stomach, getting his prostitute off with a gorgeous, strangled moan as his cock was trapped between them and rubbed up against Ushijima’s firm stomach. Hinata’s cry, his wrecked expression glazed with lazy satisfaction, and the way muscles clamped down hard on him sucked Ushijima’s orgasm from him, even though he’d intended to continue for a while longer, at least. He groaned, rough and broken, hips twitching in as he took himself to the very last of his pleasure.

 

* * *

 

Hinata sat by the open door, short legs outstretched on the porch. His furisode was comfortable and loose, hanging from his shoulder lazily as he stared out into the dark gardens. He wiggled his bare toes, chuckling softly to himself as the breeze tickled them pleasantly.  
A presence approached behind him, and he felt his furisode slide back onto his shoulder.  
Hinata chuckled.

“Don’t be indecent.”  
At that, the ginger outright laughed, bubbling and light.

He wouldn’t dare be like this, be _real_ , around his other clients. It was an odd association they had: intimate business exchange. They weren’t friends, nor lovers… But by this point, they were probably fond enough of one another.

“Hey, isn’t that my _job_?” He teased, sing-song.  
He heard the irritated sigh behind him, and heard the fizzling of burning tobacco as the man drew from his elegant pipe.

“...But it’s okay. In two years, my contract is finished,” the adolescent smiled to the open sky, his voice quieter, and earnest. “...And it won’t be my job anymore.”  
A breeze swept across the garden, and Hinata smiled, fixated as he watched a crow fly from the trees to ride it, black wings outstretched and its call on the wind.

 

“... _Shoyou._ ” The command in the man’s voice startled the boy, and he looked back, inquisitive and blissfully unaware.

He froze when the man loomed over him, standing, his atmosphere cold. Strong fingers yanked his chin upwards at an uncomfortable angle, and he stared in alarm as the man looked down at him. Ushijima’s expression was neutral, but his eyes were not.

“As long as I’m alive… _You’ll stay here_.”

 

Hinata’s blood ran cold.

“...Fetch my jacket.”  
He swallowed the tight pain in his throat, and rose to his feet in a daze.

  
  
  
The man didn’t say anything else.  
At the door, Shoyou gazed up at him, unsure.  
“...Thank you for your continued patronage...”

 

Without a word, Ushijima left.

 

* * *

  
_“I heard a rumour that he’s been paying the owner to keep him here,”_  
_“No way- what about his contract?”_  
_“Apparently, as long as that man keeps giving him money, **he said he’s going to keep Hinata here any way he can**._ ” 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading♥: feedback lets me know what I need to improve and what guns to stick to, and I'd super appreciate any feedback at all! Probably expect more Haikyuu rarepair from me. 
> 
> Also  
> may write a prologue, because this AU went a little further than a slightly angsty smut oneshot when I was writing.  
> may not: I'm lazy.


End file.
